


When the world was still enough...

by themuller



Series: The adventures of Pam and Turing [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, 007 games, M/M, Team Q-branch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:24:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuller/pseuds/themuller
Summary: AnonPrompt for the 007 games 2017:James rescues Princess Pampuria  from Blofeld's lair and takes her home to Q as he knows he loves cats.  Q adores her but Bond becomes convinced she's trying to kill him.





	1. The rescue

“Well, my darling Princess,” uncle Blofeld cooed, “would you like to come and watch your uncle play?”

Pam was just finishing the last nibbles of caviar and salmon, nicely prepared for her on a silver plate. She loved to watch uncle play. Grown men who would crumble and cry for mercy under uncle’s ministrations. It was so much more satisfying than fooling around for an hour or two with a small mouse.

Licking the very last pieces of the dish, Pam meowed approvingly. Uncle Blofeld opened the door for her and she strolled confidently out of the room, knowing exactly where to go. As it was, uncle’s toy was an old man, looking rather worn out already. He was still unconscious, strapped into the play chair. Huffing impatiently Pam found a warm spot in the sun near the window. She was quite disappointed by uncle. Such an ancient relict of an agent, she thought, remembering back to the days at Piz Gloria, where a younger version had tried to outwit her uncle. Amateur that one!

And what with that woman? Looking like the perfect damsel in distress. Pam eyed uncle Blofeld suspiciously. No, he hadn’t found someone else to share his love and adoration for Pam with. No, it must have been this old relict who had brought her with him. Pam rolled her eyes. Dear Catlord, these agents were so very predictable. Young, blond, blue eyed and so afraid for what might happen to her sweet-heart. If it hadn’t been wasting some perfect caviar, Pam might have thrown up all over the damsel’s feet, just to make a point of the vomit-inducing situation. At least uncle seemed to enjoy himself, forcing the damsel to watch.

Pam stretched out languidly. Life was good. She contemplated the two prisoners for a while and decided to call them Gramps and Damsel. It had the right, fitting sound to her.

A few minutes later, Gramps woke up. He seemed quite disoriented at first. Then he saw Damsel and—ooh, suddenly he was all the hero, ready to take the heat as long as she would go free. Pam was reconsidering the importance of caviar, when uncle started the show. At first, he explained every little detail about what he was going to do to Gramps and how it would affect him. Pam listened respectfully, always eager to learn new ways to induce terror in humans and animals.

Then, uncle pushed the buttons and the machine started drilling into the old man’s flesh and bones. And wasn’t that something to behold? He was screaming and shivering. Pam could tell that uncle was very satisfied. She licked her lips, wondering if she would be allowed to scratch a few marks into some of the exposed flesh. Damsel looked even more distressed now. Her eyes wide and she was clenching her hands. Just you wait, Pam thought, once we’re finished with Gramps, you’ll be the next one in that chair. Pam flicked her tail in happy anticipation.

Uncle was again explaining and Pam could tell Gramps was trying to draw things out. Probably looking for an escape from the next bit. Then uncle went up to him, explaining about their past, about uncle’s traitorous father. Served him well to be buried under tons of snow. Pam jumped up on Gramps, pushing her claws viciously through the expensive trousers. Maybe they should bury him outside, neck deep in the sand and watching as the sun drained the life out of him?

Uncle petted her. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Then he lifted her tenderly and sat her down on the floor. Little did Pam know that this would be the last time uncle would ever touch her. No, she didn’t know. If she had known, she would have been more adamant when Gramps let himself be kissed by Damsel. She would have been louder in her protests about the thing, Damsel was given by Gramps. And she would most definitely have stayed with uncle instead of being snatched away by Gramps, once the whole room exploded with a flash of light and a thunderous noise.

She was hissing and fighting to worm her way out of Gramps’ arms, but for some reason he just held on to her. Apparently not minding the deep claw marks left on his arms and chest. Blood was mingling with sweat—gross!—still, the old man held on to her. Damsel stayed close as well, and Pam waited for the moment, Damsel would faint and Gramps would carry both of them to safety. The thought alone had her almost retching up the caviar.

Instead, the three of them had made it outside, and Pam was literally thrown into uncle’s helicopter. Before she could recover, Gramps had started the machine and they were leaving uncle’s place. Pam was devastated and furious. HOW DARED THEY? How dared they take her away from uncle? She would revenge him! She would show them who they were dealing with! Before she could throw herself at Gramps, slashing his throat, Damsel had something in her hand—a syringe of some kind—sticking it into Pam’s flank. It must have been an anaesthetic. Pam passed out within seconds, scratching one last mark down along the damned damsel’s arm.

When Pam regained consciousness, she was lying on a scratchy, smelly blanket. It was dark at first, her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the surroundings. She felt dizzy. It was loud and cold. She was—she was in a cage.

A cage!

She, Princess Pampuria, second in command of Spectre, was in a cage!

In senseless rage she threw herself at the bars, screaming, and furiously scratching at the filthy rug underneath her. She kept at it, shredding the cloth to pieces, scraping her paws bloody, before she finally collapsed. Exhausted, hungry, thirsty. Alone. In a cage placed in the cargo hold of an airplane. It was utterly undignified for someone of her ancestry. Her last thought, before she gave in to a light sleep, was ‘revenge’.


	2. Adoring Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pam is hungry

Pam would wake up two more times while on the plane, every time inducing even more damage to herself and her surroundings. When the plane finally landed, Pam was too exhausted to register anything before she heard a new voice. A wonderfully posh voice which put Gramps in his place.

“Bond! How dare you come in here with a cat carrier?”

Pam could hear how Gramps tried to joke about bringing gifts. Her hackles raised once more.

She was nobody’s gift; she wasn’t a thing to be given away! She was Princess Pampuria!

Her cage was set down on a desk, which was littered with electronically devices, cables, and other interesting stuff, including something that looked suspiciously like a pen. An unknown face appeared on the other side of the bars. A nice, friendly face. Bright green eyes behind glasses and surrounded by a mop of black hair, which had Pam’s paws itching to play with. She was very surprised about that feeling!

“Really Bond, how is it you have been treating this lady? What’s her name?”

Pam was immediately satisfied by the accusing tone in this man’s voice. Even more so, when she realised that Gramps actually felt chastised.

“Well, Q, I didn’t have the time to find accommodations for her. Her name is Pam,” Gramps said apologising. “Blofeld used to call her Princess Pampuria.”

The last bit was said with a smirk and Pam was pushing out her claws, ready to attack whenever this ‘Q’ man opened her prison.

“It’s a rather fitting name for such a beauty, Bond!”

And, oh, the slight anger Pam could hear in the man’s voice did wonders to her hurt pride.

“Now, Bond, you go and fetch some fresh water while I’ll take care of her ladyship!”

With that, Gramps was dismissed and the man turned once more towards the cage.

“Let’s see, Princess, you must be hungry. Look, I have a nice salmon sandwich leftover, which can make do for now. I’ll find something more appropriate for you later.”  
With that, the man opened the cage door and placed a small plate just outside the cage. The sandwich had been taken apart, the pieces of smoked salmon were mouthwateringly draped across white bread. The man had taken a few steps back from the desk, as if to give Pam some kind of privacy after her traumatic abduction.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Pam marched out of the cage, not heeding the bloody paw prints and her dishevelled, grimy fur. Casting a glance at the man, she could tell he was appalled by the way she had been treated. With grim satisfaction, Pam allowed herself to wolf down the first few pieces of fish.

When Gramps returned with the water, she didn’t acknowledge it, despite being thirsty. No, she would rather grant her attention to her new Daddy, as she had decided to call this ‘Q’ man. ‘Daddy’ was a much more fitting name than ‘Q’. This just went to show how little Gramps was able to realise the importance of certain people. ‘Q’—as if such an impressive person could be denoted by an insignificant letter. No, Daddy would be able to reinstate Pam with all of the glory and power, she would need to conquer the world, now that uncle was no more. With that, she ate the last pieces of salmon, before deigning to drink some of the water.

‘Vengeance will be mine,’ she thought, already planning out her campaign for world domination while sipping the refreshing beverage.


	3. Cat army at Her Majesty's service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pam summons for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm overwhelmed by all the comments and reactions I'm getting for this story. Thank you so much for all the encouragement and feedback. It's very much appreciated (and needed)!

Pam was lying on a red velvet pillow, contemplating world dominance while eyeing her new kingdom. Daddy’s flat wasn’t that big, but she had settled for a place on the window sill of the living room—for now. From here, she could overlook the entrance and keep tabs on what all her minions were up to. Not that she that had many, she had to admit grudgingly to herself. Gone were the days where she could command the hundreds of Spectre servants. Now, Daddy was her favourite, closely followed by Turing, a shabby tabby, Daddy had taken in a long time ago. He needed some training but would eventually make an acceptable servant, she had assured herself. As it was, Turing was loafing on the sill beside her. NOT on her pillow, of course. He had brought her a small mouse, which she had found adequate for her to munch down before complaining about its diminutive size.

Then there was Gramps. Just the thought of him had her floof become all messed up. Look at that, she thought accusingly. Daddy had been combing and petting her for hours to make every hair draped perfectly around her. And now? Because of Gramps it was all raised and disheveled. For that alone he should be punished. She gave a small growl, which had Turing waking from his light nap.

“We have a plan,” she meowed quietly, giving Turing a meaningful look.

The tabby closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Whatever you have in mind, Princess, it’s a no!”

“Oh, Turing, but this will be fun!” Pam assured him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I will regret this, won’t I?” he meowed with a deepfelt sigh.

Probably, Pam thought. She licked her floof back in place, since she needed to look her best for what she was about to do.  
“Well, your highness, what is this all about, then?” Turing asked when Pam didn’t answer.

With an irritated flick of her tail, she turned her attention back to the tabby.

“Gramps is on a trip to this big chunk of land on the other side of this big sea, right?”

“You mean the United States and the Atlantic Ocean?” Turing nodded, clearly trying to distract Pam from what was really important.

“Yes, whatever. And he is there now to,” Pam had to swallow hard and take a deep breath, before she could continue, “to take down some of the last minions of Spectre, right?”

A small tear found its way down one of Pam’s whiskers and she had to sniffle royally to cover her emotions. Turing just looked at her as if he still didn’t get it. Peasants!

“We are going to stop him! Him and this, this Felix Leiter guy. Ugh!”

Pam had to rein in her distaste for Gramps and this, this chocolate coated cream puff who had been sabotaging Spectre’s expansion overseas from the get-go. They would suffer, both of them!

“I will alert the orange menace! He might be old and overweight, but he will know how to spread the word and get my personal army charging.”

Turing looked at her with a disbelieving frown.

“Army?”

Pam huffed.

“My personal army,” she sat up in all her majestic glory. “Don’t you believe me, you heathen?”

The last part was hissed disapprovingly at Turing, who took a placating step back and almost fell off the window sill. At the very same moment Daddy turned up, probably to look out for Pam. He very obviously was concerned about her well-being. Thus, she had yet to walk more than a few steps, because her delicate paws still seemed to hurt whenever she was put down on the hardwood floor of the kitchen. Also, Daddy had told Turing off a few times, when he had tried to get his greedy maw into her bowl with specially made food. He had learned his lesson by now, and would give any leftovers from his own bowl to her whenever she needed sustenance.

For now, Pam needed Daddy for another kind of mission. She continued to pat at Turing, making funny noises and look as adoringly innocent as possible for her. Turing on the other hand tried to stay on the sill, clawing his way up, whenever he was about to fall.

It took a few seconds, before Daddy took out his mobile and started filming. Now, Pam went all in. Turing was pushed cruelly off the sill. And while he tried to regain some kind of dignity, Pam turned directly at the camera, meowing out a clear message while looking as if she was contemplating the next Armageddon. Which, in fact was exactly what she was doing. To her humans, it would look like one of those hilarious cat videos, they so freely and trustingly distributed via the Internets. Ah, the stupidity of humanity. Not even Daddy knew that all of those films were messages between the cat rulers of Earth. She couldn’t hide a disdainful headshake at the end of her transmission. The orange menace would understand.

Daddy was grinning when he rewatched the video and then proceeded to upload it to Youtube. Elegantly, Pam jumped off the sill, landed on the thick carpet with a loud thud, and strolled into the computer room, watching intently the video being shared and commented. She proceeded to throne on Daddy’s chair when he went for a new cup of Earl Grey. The seat was still warm and she didn’t budge when Daddy came back, so he got one of the kitchen chairs instead. When he tried to turn the computer screen away from her to continue with his work, she hissed displeased at him. He looked at her with an adoring smile, then got one of his other screens hooked up to the computer and used that one instead.

Pam had only to wait an hour before she got the confirmation she needed. The orange menace got the message and would proceed accordingly.

The next morning Pam couldn’t wait for Daddy to open his mail. Turing was sitting next to her on the desk, watching the screen come to life.

“What the f—? What have you been up to now, Bond?” Daddy was furious it seemed and Pam beamed with glee.

“You were shooting at a kitten?!”

They all watched some grainy video feed filmed with the small camera, Daddy had installed in a shirt button. It was showing an empty street in front of Gramps and Cream Puff, who was walking beside Gramps. They ran for cover when someone started shooting at them. Pam meowed admiringly. Gramps and Cream Puff were firing back, now safely behind some overfilled bins, getting some hits in on the other party. Suddenly, a big fat orange cat with black markings strolled into the middle of the street, carrying a small, scared kitten. The orange cat dropped the kitten off on the tarmac, turned towards the camera with a huge smile on his face, before he strolled out of the picture again. The kitten stayed in the street, whimpering and frozen in total terror. Pam glanced at Daddy, who had closed his hands to fist and was shaking with anger. Her tail was twitching in anticipation of an upcoming dressing down of Gramps.

Instead, the shooting stopped and they could hear how the other party departed while Gramps and Cream Puff were discussing how to get the kitten to safety. Daddy relaxed a bit at this point. The camera moved forward, Gramps was obviously going to take the kitten when a whole gang of cats came from every part of the street, claws out and screeching at him and Cream Puff. Both of them were trying to fight off the cats while rolling around in the garbage from the overturned bins.

Daddy watched and rewatched the last part, editing Gramps and Cream Puff's faces so nobody would recognise them—except of course MI6 and Pam and her army—before uploading the video to Youtube.

“Princess Pampuria—One; Gramps—Nil.”


End file.
